


Love, Death, Robots and the Aftermath

by Witchy1ness



Category: Iron Giant (1999)
Genre: Dating isn't easy, F/M, especially if you're a widowed mother, or if it's your mom and your best friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 16:43:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18480232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchy1ness/pseuds/Witchy1ness
Summary: Hogarth doesn't even consider that there may be another reason Dean keeps coming around so much. Feels-fic about Hogarth and Annie and moving on.





	Love, Death, Robots and the Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> The Iron Giant and all recognizable characters are the property of Warner Bros., I'm just borrowing them :)
> 
> Reviews and constructive criticism welcome, flames will be ignored.
> 
> (Ran a little dry on a title, may change if I ever come up with something better, haha.)

 

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His mom was _giggling._

The sound was so unexpected Hogarth paused in the middle of setting his winter boots down, ears cocked. He wasn’t exactly _late_ for supper, but he _was_ ever-so-slightly past the time his mom had told him to be home by, so he’d come quietly through the front door hoping to sneak up to his room and then stroll down like he’d been there for a while, but the unexpected sound derailed his plans.

Setting the boots down, he quietly removed the rest of his winter gear (he’d unzipped the coat on the porch so she wouldn’t hear the sound of the zipper), softly dropping it as he snuck down the hall.

He was surprised to hear the lower timbre that signified Dean’s voice – his mom never laughed like _that_ around the junkyard owner; sure, Dean had made her laugh before, but it was usually more of a _haha_ -type laugh, not this giggle-laugh that reminded him of Tommy’s kid sister whenever Hogarth came over.

He heard his mom giggle _again_ as he neared the dining room entrance, dropping to his hands and knees as he peeked around the doorjamb so that the table and chairs would hopefully block their view of him.

Hogarth mouthed a word he wasn’t supposed to know as he realized the adults were in the kitchen – and out of sight. There were steaming pots on the stove and carefully peeking upwards showed three settings on the table, causing him to grin happily when he realized Dean would be staying for supper again.

After the giant had protected the town his mom had insisted the junkyard owner come over for supper as a thank-you for everything he’d done for Hogarth. And, as it turned out, to scold him for everything he’d done for Hogarth – which had been _hilarious_ to watch, as Hogarth wasn’t used to seeing anyone else be on the receiving end of his mother’s I-am-so-disappointed-in-you-what-were-you- _thinking_ lecture, never mind another adult.

Despite that, he’d overheard his mom tell the other ladies at the diner that she thought Dean was a good influence on him; and since then, the junkyard owner had been coming around more often. Not only to the house, but to the diner as well, and his mom even agreed to letting Hogarth stay the night at the junkyard sometimes (if she got home on time she’d drive him over, and sometimes she’d stay a little while and Dean would cook for them before Hogarth would shoo her away so they could have ‘guy time’).

What had initially been a thank-you supper had somehow turned into a standing invite, and as October rolled into November, and then edged closer to Christmas, it wasn’t unusual for Dean to have supper with the Hughes two or three times a week.

But this supper would make the _fourth_ time this week; nor was it the first week that this had happened.

Not that Hogarth was _complaining_ – Dean was the only other person who’d known the Iron Giant; the only one who didn’t treat Hogarth like he was going to start bawling at any second – even though he _had,_ several times, in those first few weeks, and the first mortifying time it had happened in front of Dean the man hadn’t said anything, he’d just put his arm around Hogarth’s shoulders and let him cry it out, and then showed him how to weld.

Dean _listened_ when Hogarth talked to him, and was perfectly willing to let Hogarth go on about space, or aliens, or anything for hours without once acting like he was only humouring him. 

So yeah, Hogarth _liked_ having the man around – and given that Dean kept coming around, he obviously liked Hogarth too.

“ – Hogarth?”

Hogarth panicked, instinctively thinking he’d been caught; but no, his mom and Dean were still in the kitchen. Curiosity further aroused, he abandoned the dining room as too exposed, quickly scooting down the hall and around the corner, army-crawling to the push-door between the kitchen and the TV room. Hooking a finger around the bottom corner of the door, he eased it open just enough to peek into the kitchen and –

_Oh._

Something hard and painful lodged itself in Hogarth’s chest as he was blindsided with the realization that maybe Dean wasn’t coming around for _him_ after all.

Clad in his customary black sweater and blue jeans, Dean was leaning against a counter, arms clasped around his mom’s back as she rested her hands on his chest.

There was a cold ball forming in Hogarth’s stomach, and it was so distracting he almost missed when Dean began speaking again.

“Look, Annie – You got no reason to feel guilty, alright? You – we – haven’t done anything wrong. And to hell with what everyone else will think.”

Hogarth couldn’t hear his mom sigh, but he saw it in the way her shoulders slumped for a moment for she straightened up.

“I – I know, I just...I don’t like keeping secrets from him. We don’t…we don’t _do_ that in this family. Or, at least we never used to.”

Hogarth’s heart gave a painful thump, and that cold ball in his stomach grew larger.

“And I’m not asking you to. Hell, Annie, we can talk to him tonight, I got no problem with that.”

Dean’s tone changed from reassuring to teasing, and one hand lifted to tug at a stray lock of hair. “I just don’t think there’s any point in telling him anything when _you_ haven’t even given me an answer, lady.”

His mom’s head ducked down at that, but it was easy to see the blush on her face even from where he was spying.

Time seemed to slow, and Hogarth felt the cold ball in his stomach expand to freeze his entire body as he watched them kiss.

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He doesn’t remember deciding to go up to his room, but one minute he’s watching his mom and Dean, the next he’s curled under his blanket and his dad’s picture is clutched so tightly the edges of the frame have bitten into his hands.

There are so many emotions crowding his throat Hogarth dragged the trashcan closer, afraid he would actually throw them up.

And no matter how tightly he scrunched his eyes shut, his mind just kept replaying the scene in the kitchen, bringing with it a tangled knot of emotions he struggled to understand.

There was shock – _How could they do that?_ – there was hurt – _How long had this been going on for?_ _Dean’s supposed to be my friend –_ and there was a deep feeling of betrayal weaving through all of it.

Taking a shaky breath, Hogarth swiped at his cheeks with one hand.

The thought that his mom might ever be interested in someone else had never even _occurred_ to him, and to see her – to see her….he swallowed convulsively.

 _Mom was kissing Dean!_ a voice in his head howled, _Just like she used to kiss Dad!_

Hogarth leaned over and dry-heaved into the trashcan, nearly pitching off the bed.

Gulping air he blinked furiously to keep the sudden tears at bay.

He _hurt_ – his heart felt like someone was squeezing it, and his stomach felt like the time Jimmy had punched him for his lunch money, and he wanted to see his Dad again _so badly_ he couldn’t breathe – wanted Dad to come hug him and hold him and tell him that it was okay and then they’d go downstairs and join Mom as she finished making dinner and everything would be _fine_ –

Hogarth sniffled as hot tears began to slide down his cheeks.

 _No one_ could replace his Dad.

_Ever._

_So why was mom –_

Sucking in a huge breath, Hogarth couldn’t keep a quiet sob from escaping.

What further added to his misery was that he _liked_ Dean.

_How could they do **that**? Dean’s supposed to be my friend, and friends don’t – they don’t **do** stuff like that. _

Well, he’d _thought_ Dean was his friend. But friends didn’t kiss their friend’s mom like  _that_ – they especially didn’t do it and then keep it a secret.

_Why?! Why would she – why would they –_

_Dean isn’t Dad! Dean is my friend, not –_

His breath catches with a sudden thought – maybe Dean _wasn’t_ his friend; maybe the real reason the tow truck operator had been coming around so often had nothing to do with Hogarth at all; he’d just been a convenient excuse so that the townspeople wouldn’t gossip.

He didn’t answer when his mom called him down for supper, no longer hungry and unable to face her or Dean. His futile wish that she’d leave him alone goes unanswered as he hears the creak of his bedroom door open.

“Hogarth? Honey? Are you alright?”

He still doesn’t answer her, screwing his eyes shut and curling tighter around his Dad’s picture until the corners of the wooden frame bite into his skin.

“Hogarth?”

He can picture her as she moves around the bed, and then she’s lifting a corner of the blanket and why didn’t he tuck the corners in instead of just hiding underneath that was so _stupid –_

He knows exactly when she spots the picture frame because she says his name again, only this time it’s soft and sad, and makes the cold ball of feelings in his stomach writhe.

The bed creaks as she sits down beside him, and then her hand is softly stroking his hair as she sighs.

“Honey…”

And suddenly Hogarth can name one of those roiling feelings: and it’s _anger_.

“Dean is my _friend!_ ” he snaps, eyes flying open as he scrambles upright. “He’s not – you’re not – it – _he’s not Dad_!”

His mom flinches like he’s physically struck her, and Hogarth would feel bad about it but he’s already so miserable it barely registers.

He doesn’t know what to say after that, choking on the emotions that are roiling up from his stomach and into his throat, and he can’t find the words and he _should;_ he’s smart, he’s skipped a grade, but he _doesn’t have the words for this_ –

“I’m _sorry_ , Hogarth, I -” And there are tears in her eyes and now they’re in his too, and the next thing he knows they both start to cry and she’s gathering him into her lap and he’s honestly too big but neither of them mind.

He’s vaguely aware of Dean coming up at one point, but doesn’t catch the soft words the man exchanges with his mom, nor does he register the sound of a truck pulling away from the house shortly after.

By the time he’s reduced to sniffles he’s totally exhausted and more than half-asleep, and he doesn’t utter a peep when his mom rearranges them so they’re lying side-by-side, just like she used to after his dad died. The realization brings even more tears to his eyes but he’s too tired to cry anymore, even after watching her tenderly replace the picture of his dad on the bedside table. He shifts around so he can still see it as they lie there.

“I’m sorry, Hogarth,” his mom whispers into his hair, and he snuggles backwards as her arms come around him.

“Dean’s my _friend_ ,” he repeats quietly.

“What was that honey?”

He speaks a little louder. “Dean’s my friend, and I don’t…” he hunches his shoulders as he finishes, “…I don’t want to lose one.” _My only friend_ , he thinks.

“Oh sweetie, just because we – I mean, if we _were_ to – Dean wouldn’t stop being your friend.”

“Yes, he would! Because you two would be – would be _dating_ , which means he’d have to be an _adult_ , and adults can’t be friends with kids – “

His mother’s snort takes him so off-guard he tilts his head back to stare at her in surprise.

“Hogarth, Dean _is_ an adult. Has been the entire time you’ve known him. Although he doesn’t always _act_ like it,” she concedes in a rueful mutter. “And he’s been friends with you this entire time, hasn’t he?”

Hogarth silently concedes the point, mustering up the courage to blurt out his next question.

“But…what about Dad?”

Pain flashes in her green eyes as her arms tighten briefly around him. “I will _always_ love your father, Hogarth, don’t ever doubt that. He will forever be in my heart, just like he is in yours. Dean – _no one_ – can ever replace him or what we had together. But…”

Hogarth shifts to look back at his father’s picture. “But he’s gone,” he finishes quietly a few moments later.

His mother sighs again, but doesn’t say anything. They lay in silence for a few more moments, Hogarth enjoying the feel of his mom softly petting his hair.

He’s not really sure about this; but then again he’s not really _unsure_ about it either, and given how his mom had been acting in the kitchen maybe it’s the same for her. He takes a deep breath and twists to sit up, scrubbing at the tear tracks on his face as his mom sits up.

“Hogarth?”

Hogarth drops his hand and looks her straight in the eyes.

“Dean isn’t Dad,” he begins forcefully, bulling ahead as his mom flinches. “But I like him, and _you_ like him – I think, I mean, you _were_ kissing him –“ he runs right over his mom’s embarrassed groan, “– and I’m sure he likes us, and maybe…maybe we could…” he runs out of words, floundering.

His mom’s hand covers his where he’s agitatedly picking at the comforter.

“You really think maybe we could, Hogarth?”

His mom sounds….fragile, and scared, and Hogarth doesn’t like it. So he takes a deep breath, straightening his shoulders and jutting his chin out.

“We can,” he declares, and is rewarded with a bright smile. 

“You’d really be okay with that, sweetheart?”

Hogarth nods, but then falters. “Do you think…do you think _Dean’ll_ be okay with it?” he ventures hesitantly. He’s pretty sure the junkyard owner would be, given that Hogarth _did_ just watch the man kiss his mother, but – he’s surprised when his mom breaks out into laughter.

She leans closer conspiratorially, smiling and blushing – and he didn’t know she could do _that_ – and admits, “He’s wanted to talk to you about…this…for a couple weeks now, but I kept putting him off because I wasn’t even sure that I – that _we_ , you and I – were ready to take that kind of step.”

Hogarth leans his forehead against hers. “I think we are, Mom,” he says honestly.

“Me too, honey,” she replies softly.

And then the moment is ruined when his stomach lets out an almighty growl, and Hogarth jerks upright.

“I forgot about supper!” he gasps, bouncing off the bed and feeling strangely light despite the events of the past hour.

“It’s still there,” his mom says drily as she comes around the bed, only to let out an exclamation of surprise when he comes to a sudden halt in the middle of the doorway and she nearly bowls him over.

“But Dean…?”

Understanding chases the surprise from her face as she curls an arm around his shoulders. “Dean came up earlier to check on us, and I sent him home for the night.”

“Oh.”

They’re both quiet as they navigate their way to the kitchen, Hogarth chewing his lip as he takes in the three table settings.

“Mom?”

“Yes honey?”

“We could warm this all up at Dean’s place, right?”

A brief pause, and then she laughs and presses a kiss to his head.

“We definitely could. Help me pack it up?”

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**Author's Note:**

> So this was how this fic (and Lest I Forget) first started:  
> \-----------------------------------------------  
> *Gives in to the urge to rewatch The Iron Giant*  
> Muse: *drops a plot bunny*  
> Me: I’ve got original stuff I need to work on, I need to prep for NaNoWriMo, I should really finish off my Ravager one-shots – I don’t have time –  
> Muse: *feeds plot bunny*  
> Me: Okay, fine; I’m writing it, are you happy –  
> *plot bunny turns out to be pregnant*  
> Me: OH COME ON  
> And thus, fic two.  
> \-----------------------------------------  
> And it ended when my Muse decided to OD on energy drinks and had me finish off like 5 WIP fics in 2 days last week. So more forthcoming this week~!


End file.
